


From Now, Until Forever

by theglamourfades



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Canon Compliant, During Canon, F/M, Missing Scene, Past Sexual Assault, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-21 11:27:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 22,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17042876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theglamourfades/pseuds/theglamourfades
Summary: A ficlet for each episode - revealing a little more of what happened between Anna and Bates each step of the way, through the good and the bad.





	1. Tears on the Pillow

**Author's Note:**

> During an annual rewatch, I somehow thought to myself "what if I wrote a ficlet for every episode of DA, expanding on what we saw?" And so the challenge was set.

The small room was silent, the hour late – or far too early. All too soon she would need to stretch out her tired limbs, rise for a day that would be much like the thousands that preceded it. Her days had never been the same since a month or so ago, new conversations and manners that brought forth curiosity, a sense of calm as well as excitement, and distinctive smiles that had never before fit her lips most of all.

Anna buried her face into the pillow, hoping it would be enough to muffle the sobs that were increasing. She couldn't remember the last time she had cried. It was most likely when she had mistakenly stained one of the girls' dresses beyond repair, but that was some years ago now. Her eyes stung and her throat ached and she wanted to tell herself to stop being so silly. Yet she simply wasn't able.

She couldn't bear unfairness, and it was ever so unfair that Mr Bates would have to go. It surprised her the way people had acted around him, the doubt in his abilities and looks full of pity. From what she could see he did his job perfectly well. He was eager and diligent, he could stitch just as finely as any maid which was a skill she knew took some time to master. Surely the way he was always immaculately turned out spoke about his eye for detail.

He was a gentleman too, that much she knew. A few times he had stopped as they had both made for the exit to the hall at the same time, hooking his cane on his arm to hold the door open for her, and he waited to let the women sit down at the table first. She liked that. His eyes held a certain mystery that fascinated her but they were always kind whenever he looked at her. His smiles were few – and she certainly didn't blame him - but when they came, like a ray of longed-for sun on a winter's day, they were enough to make everything seem easier. They held a promise, and Anna longed to know what it was.

Perhaps one more could be coaxed from him, a sorrowful one as he bid goodbye to Lord Grantham. A leaving present that she would hold dear in her mind. He had managed to smile for her and even comfort her, when she was the one who should have been offering more to him. His dignity moved her deeply, and she still felt the catch of her breath in her throat as time had seemed to stand still between them both. How she wished it would have.

Anna wiped the trickle of tears from her eyes onto the pillow's edge. Maybe she would learn from his example in time, but for this one night she let them flow.

She would not have expected to smile the next day, yet from the moment he stepped back into the servants' hall and announced he wouldn't be leaving after all, it stayed with her for every second.


	2. Daydreaming and Dancing

Daisy was often the source of amusement in the servants' hall, for an innocent but ill-thought remark she made, but this evening provided something quite different. Smiles were on every face and rhythmic clapping accompanied William's jaunty piano playing, the young girl being whirled around the floor in the arms of Thomas who was more than pleased to get a chance to display his hidden prowess. Anna thoroughly enjoyed the joyous mood that had been created by the impromptu spectacle, laughter leaving her in bursts. For all the bickering and gossiping that took place in the communal area, increasing with the arrival of the new heir, it was lovely to be reminded that they could all be united in such happy moments – even if they were fleeting. They were like a family after all, and families would have their fights and harmonies; it was the natural way.

It brought to mind the village dances that they would occasionally get the opportunity to go to, which she always anticipated. She knew she wasn't the best dancer, but she loved to do it all the same. Dancing made her feel free. She had never got the chance to do the Grizzly Bear – it seemed rather risqué for the events that were carefully chaperoned – but Anna thought that it looked rather fun, and she would like to give it a try. Not with Thomas, though he was very proficient. She wasn't as surprised as she should have been that another partner came immediately to her mind. Anna felt sad that it would only remain a daydream.

They had talked as they sat fairly close at the table, something that was happening more often now. She smiled in wonder when Mr Bates informed her that he did indeed take part in dancing in his younger days, and tried to keep her blushes at bay when she imagined what a younger version of him looked like. She couldn't quite bring an accurate picture to mind, and she supposed it was because she liked him perfectly the way he was now. Just a few words had proved fuel for her fantasies. Perhaps they might try a slower dance. A small shiver invaded her as she thought of his hand upon her waist, hers on his shoulder, guiding them as they surrendered to the music.

"I imagine you would do very well. You have…the stature for it."

Mr Bates's cheeks flushed a little red, shifting the book in his hands. The sight made Anna's heart flutter.

"Perhaps you'll see for yourself one day, Mr Bates," she quipped, gathering her pencil and paper from the table and offering him a smile over her shoulder.

"Perhaps I will."


	3. Making a Stand

John couldn't help but be impressed as he passed through the hall, quickly discerning what the scene was about. In the division there stood Gwen, her shoulders trembling as she faced Mrs Hughes, and Anna, whose stance was straighter. She didn't have to say much in defence, but what she did say was sure, strong and full of conviction. If he had come upon the commotion earlier he would have made the move to intervene, but he was glad that he hadn't. He surely wouldn't have kept as clear a head and as careful a tongue as the head housemaid.

From the months they had spent in each other's company, he had come to know that she had many commendable qualities. For such a young woman, she was wise beyond her years. He hadn't needed long to observe her at work to know that her ethic was held up as a shining example to the rest of the staff, and she hardly stopped from dawn to dusk. He was honoured that when she did get chance for a break she seemed to want to spend it talking with him. She was discreet with her questioning, but he never minded answering them. Her careful glances over his shoulder at the latest book he had loaned from the library were welcomed, and they would have many thought-provoking conversations about literature and the philosophy that arose from it. She may have been modest, but John knew that intelligence didn't come from having a grand education.

And now it was evident to him that she had spark too. A fire in her stomach that was tempered with grace and a respect for her superiors. Women with confidence had been his downfall in life. He winced inwardly thinking of how the trait had soured into something bitter and poisonous in Vera, no thanks in part to him. She had turned to leave on Mrs Hughes's instruction and it was not lost how beautiful she appeared, burning brightly around the edges.

He had stopped her by the stairs once everyone had dispersed back to their duties. "It was very admirable, what you did. Not many people would be as brave."

"I had to say my piece. Whatever people might think, we're all each other has got here." Her features softened as she took a breath, straightening again on the step. "I would do the same for any of my friends."

Something within him slumped but he gave her a smile, privileged to be included in that group.

Leaving the house for his trip to Leeds, he hoped that this device would work, so that he could stand proudly next to her fine example.


	4. A First Time for Everything

Anna shifted amongst the covers, pulling them away as she suddenly felt quite warm. Mrs Hughes had been right to send her to bed earlier in the day; a few sneezes had escalated into something worse than she had imagined. It was one of those things, nothing too significant. As the evening had worn on she got increasingly lethargic, so much so that she couldn't drag herself downstairs for a bit of hastily prepared supper.

She wouldn't mourn and feel sorry for herself about it, but the timing did seem unfortunate. Seeing the fair being set up in the village had been exciting and she had been glad of Gwen's suggestion for them all to go along. Of course, she'd seen most of it before but that didn't mean the novelty had been lost. The prospect of witnessing it through fresh eyes gave a new thrill. She had been looking forward to seeing what Mr Bates would have made of it all. It wasn't likely to be as grand as anything he had seen in London, but she hoped he would enjoy it all the same. She had come to know that he didn't give much away yet the way he had smiled to himself had given her hope. Perhaps she should have given Gwen the chance – as it was her idea – but it seemed natural that she should have been Mr Bates's guide to the attractions. He would have been good at the coconut throw, she thought. She wondered how the colour of his eyes might appear against the glow of the fire and lights.

It might have turned out for the best. Her feelings had been growing every day, and she hadn't been able to put a stop to them. While the others were distracted she might have tried something foolish, like slipping her arm into his for the briefest second. Mr Bates was unfailingly polite but he gave no sign that he returned her affections. There was no reason for him to.

Her thoughts drifted with the flicker of the candlelight. She hoped that Mrs Hughes was enjoying her night away from the house. Her eyes began to droop and blur the page, her stomach grumbled that it was empty.

It was the soft yet insistent knock that saved her from nodding off, though hearing his voice she wondered whether she wasn't already in a dream.

When she opened the door she happened upon a sight that was greater than anything she would have been likely to see at the fair, and suddenly she felt more alive than she ever had.


	5. The Words That Go Unspoken

Midnight was early for him, though he knew he needed to try harder to get into a routine that would suit his still relatively new lifestyle. John stared at the ceiling as he remained wide awake in his room. His various troubles were what kept him up past all reasonable hours for years; how he would find and maintain good employment, how he could continue to rebuild his life to resemble something he could be proud of.

Not in a million years would he have believed that the question of love – again – would occupy his every waking thought. But she was showing him that anything was possible.

And yet all that he wanted so desperately with every fibre of his being was surely impossible outside of his mind. He willed himself to stop thinking about her – every inch the finest lady he had never been able to fully imagine until now – and the words she had spoken courageously from her heart that was so pure and apparently completely open to him. He still had trouble fathoming how she could feel such things for him. It had been as easy as breathing in and out for him to fall in love with her. So effortless that apparently he was not aware of it until now.

You couldn't make someone not love you. He'd said it himself to young William not too long ago, as the lad had grieved over his own troubles. He would need to try his damnedest, though the idea shattered him. He could see her now, raising her head to look at him, the breath leaving her body slowly as he strived not to trample too hard on her dreams.  _I don't love you, Anna_. She was everything he wasn't. Young, brave, whole, free to give her love as she wished. Her mistake there had been unfortunate, but it was not too late, not like it was for him. She could find happiness elsewhere, with someone who was truly worthy of her goodness. He hadn't been able to save himself before it was too late, but he could save her. This he could do, and he would. He just needed to find the nerve, and to somehow not think of her beautiful face, eyes filled with tears of anguish rather than hopeful emotion.

It was no use, just as sleeping that night appeared futile. He loved her, maybe more than she loved him. Saying it would condemn her so he would keep it to himself, and hope to God that she knew how much, and that she would forgive him his weakness.

His confession allowed rest to come. Closing his eyes, he dreamt for the first time in a long while, endless dreams of a woman with golden hair and a heart to match.


	6. Another World

The courtyard had become their meeting place. In the warmer months it was nice to have a change of scenery accompanying their talks, and the winter winds did not deter them spending a few moments at a time there. Though they did not have anything to hide in being together, the relative privacy was a welcome comfort. Now that Thomas and Miss O'Brien seemed intent on not allowing him a moment's peace, the space became more valuable than ever.

The quiet of the night didn't help his crowded mind, but that was his own fault. John found himself staring into the dark, trying to think about boot polish supplies and when his Lordship's shirts would need to be laundered. Everything he could conjure led back to his uncertain fate. He thought of Anna, sitting next to him with her reassurances that it would all come to nothing. The loss of his reassembled reputation would be a regretful cross to bear, but he couldn't have pretended for much longer that it wouldn't catch up with him. It was letting people down that was the hardest thing. People he respected, people he wished to emulate. One person who had captured his heart.

He craved a cigarette but thought twice about taking one from his pocket, knowing that she would follow him out once she had finished her mending. She told him that she couldn't abide the smell, wrinkling her button nose. It was more than enough motivation. Sure enough she emerged, her frill and apron brightening up the black. Her faith was unshakeable. Nobody had believed in him so fervently before other than his mother, and he had only just managed to paper over the cracks there. She would tell the whole world of his innocence, and through his dejection he managed a smile at her determination. Even if nobody listened she would find him hanging on her every word, following her to the ends of the earth if he was able.

Comfortable silence surrounded them, then Anna talked about this and that to distract him. A chill rose in the air and she rubbed her arms briskly. He longed to be able to take her into his own. This world may have been another one to them for a little while each day, but it wasn't quite far away enough to banish consequences.

His eyes followed her as she stood first, beckoning him with a touch that went unfelt.

"Come on then. We can't have Tweedledum and Tweedledee twiddling their thumbs for too long."

Their laughter was quickly swallowed by the night, and the warmth of her smile softened the blow of his reality once more.


	7. Not Giving Up

As Mrs Patmore dozed on the seat opposite, worn out from a week's worth of worry, Anna stared out of the window as the city scenes of London faded back into the countryside headed towards Yorkshire. Home. Her feet had barely touched the ground since going up for the season, and this trip had been quite the adventure.

Once she knew she would be going, her intentions were clear. She just wouldn't have it that he was a petty thief, especially when the story did not add up, and if he was willing to stand in front of the firing line then she had to be the one to disarm the ammunition. He likely wouldn't approve, but a few weeks of his sulking could be coped with – unlike the prospect of having to live without him. Just these days had been unbearable; she had missed him so very much.

Spending time with his mother had eased some of the pain, and gave her the answers she was sure of all along. An hour in her company had turned up more than two years worth of knowing Mr Bates, and she listened happily to the fond stories of his childhood, one or two that she had already heard, to her surprise. Anna found the same kindness that she knew so well in the face of Mrs Bates, the older woman suggesting she should stay for another cup of tea. She thought of her now, hoping that she wouldn't be lonely. In time, when things were sorted, perhaps she would be able to return for another visit with Mr Bates. He would kiss her chastely on the doorstep before they went in, but his mother would read the blush upon both of their faces, telling her all.

They would be together.

She shook her head, looking out to see that the train was pulling into the station.

When she was back she would go to Lord Grantham with what she knew, and it would be a start.

* * *

The afternoon was sunny, and some of them rushed to and fro while others reclined, enjoying the party that had still gone ahead despite the shadows, both inside and outside the house. Leaning a little on his cane, John thought of the letter that had arrived for him this morning, smiling at the familiar handwriting.

There was nothing much to tell since their last correspondence, her life still went on from day to day and she continued to be glad of the fact. Except for one afternoon, when she'd had a visit from a lovely young woman from Yorkshire. Before he could calculate the dates in his head, he knew that it wasn't a coincidence. He wasn't surprised, and found himself delighted that his mother had been able to meet her. He only wished he would have been there to see it himself, and luxuriate in the love he surely would have felt when he was stuck contending so much suspicion.

Bitterness lifted from his head as he recalled his mother's words.

_So this is your Anna, then. She's everything I imagined from your letters, and much more besides. Pretty lass, and with a clever head on her shoulders. She saw the good in you, so she knows right. The smile in her eyes whenever I mentioned your name was something to behold. I like her very much indeed and I should like to know more of her._

_Promise me, John, my boy, that you won't give up on happiness because of one mistake. I know you have your pride and you want to do what's right, but I tell you now, nothing could be more right than making good by that girl. Do what you must, but don't break your own heart and hers too over something that can be solved in time. Good things come to those who wait, and you have waited longer than most._

By nature, he hadn't inherited his mother's positive outlook. Yet the sun was shining, and change was approaching. Something was changing in him, and Anna had nurtured it.

He straightened instinctively as she approached. His position was safe, and now he would ensure that the future was too.


	8. Lucky

She was one of the lucky ones.

While most other women had sacrificed their husbands and sweethearts to the inevitable call of war, living their lives from hour to unendurable hour and never getting a moment's refrain from the torment of their thoughts and silent echo of imagined gunfire, her beloved faced no such danger. He was safe and sound and sat every evening by her side, his quiet and gentle smiles enough to assure her that no trouble existed in the world.

The passing of his mother was not a great shock yet it hit him hard; he became yet more reserved and thoughtful. As night air covered them she guided her fingers over the expanse of his hand, aligned in his grief. She wanted to be able to go with him, offering her support for every anguished step, but with more of the footmen departing to serve the country she was required more than ever. He told her that he would carry her compassion with him, and it would be his greatest comfort.  _You are always with me_ , he said, sending a surge to her heart as he covered his own. He wrote to her and his words seemed to be more hopeful than ever. So much had changed in these years, and yet to Anna it was though it had always been this way. It was only a short while, but she had never felt the pain of absence so strongly.

She could barely keep her excitement hidden, stiffening her shoulders to halt the widening of the smile on her face while she stood outside the house. She was simply overjoyed to witness his return. What he had to tell her made her think she was going to soar to the sky. He wanted to marry her. He wanted to give the rest of his life to her, much as she had always wanted to give him the same. She loved the feeling of being held in his embrace, his hands gently stroking her back, as much as she loved the exquisite press of his lips to hers. When she thought she could not possibly adore him any more, he spoke of a home and a family. She had never had to tell her dreams; he knew them all so well to begin with and he was at the centre of every one.

Dreams were fragile, as hearts were not unbreakable. Hers was ripped from her chest and shattered at her feet when he looked at her, the darkness casting a deeper shadow upon his face. She saw it in his eyes; she knew that he did not want to leave. She grasped at him yet he seemed to be slipping from her fingers. It was another enemy tearing them apart, a threat no longer hidden. Anna fought with every breath and promise she had, but it was not enough. The battle had been surrendered, and their life was the casualty.

Tears blinded her eyes as she watched him be taken, for good this time. She would cry herself into a fit, more than once, and it was some time afterwards that her head cleared enough for her to realise.

She knew what real love was, and that made her lucky still.


	9. Light at the End of the Tunnel

He boarded the earliest train, not keen to stay in London for a second longer than he had to. Dusk was still lifting from the day, but in the distance there was a dark ember of a sun on the rise.

Life with Vera again had been a disaster, not that he did anything to make it easier. It seemed as though the hellish days and nights were a fitting punishment for the destruction he left in his wake, without so much as a glance back to see what he had done. He had acknowledged it every moment since, Anna's cries of anguish ringing through his mind and rendering him disgusted with himself. This had been what he had deserved for causing her – the one who was completely blameless in this mess – so much heartache. The banshee howled the house down when she had her fill of drink, which was every night she didn't spend away, her cackling adding to the jeers an imagined crowd hurled against his head. Her poison of choice was good for one thing; it made her fail to disguise the truth. She spoke in great detail of the other men she had been with – men who were not crippled, men who saw her beauty still. She fancied she made him jealous, in some twisted way; that she was enjoying the passion he was being denied elsewhere. He thought of Anna and felt ashamed at the brief stirring he felt inside. Their love was pure, it meant so much more – he would never sully her in such a wanton way, not even if she wished and pleaded it from him.

She hid his cane, laughing when he limped down the streets. He was used to such mockery. It was the moment her spite turned that signalled the final straw. She was unfit to breathe Anna's name and when she uttered those words in a cruel whisper, thinking perhaps he wouldn't hear, he knew he had to leave before he did something he would regret.

Anna remained his light in life. He imagined her at Downton – the place he so longed to be – with her brightness come back, filled with enthusiasm once more. He hoped that she was able to enjoy herself with the others. Half of him hoped that she had forgotten about him, was at least giving thought to loving again – loving someone who gave real meaning to the word. Someone who could give her joy and hope, and smiles without the fear of tears following swiftly afterwards. He knew her too well, and knew this would not be the case. The best he could hope was for her not to be grieving over him, a spectre of love long forsaken.

Leaving their 'home' would go some way to proving that the marriage was unsalvageable. He would work upon the rest; he knew a couple of people in London who he could trust. There were a few places he could look for work and lodging, not too far away. He sighed heavily, laughing at his own stupidity. How could he expect her to give up on him when she was the only thing that kept him on the straight road?

He knew that he didn't deserve her, but at the same time he could not abide life without her.


	10. Those Three Words

As she got nearer to the house Anna tried to conceal the smile upon her face. It was not that it wouldn't have been a pleasant sight to see, but rather a puzzling one, given that she had not shown such genuine and heartfelt joy for months. She was still taking it all in, after the long bus journey back. She had seen him and spent time with him; he was no longer that fleeting glimpse she had spotted in the village or an illusion in her restless thoughts. Her hand had been held in his, the warmth of his lips pressed there to bid her farewell. When she took her seat, before she placed her gloves back on, she brushed the back against her cheek and over her mouth, already longing for more from him before the bus had even drove off. She smiled at him from the window, mouthing the words he had told her – more than once – back to him, knowing they were a firm bridge in the distance between them, which was much shorter now.

_I love you._

She had been angrier with him than she imagined she would be. Keeping all of her frustration tightly locked inside, she studied his gestures as she heard him out. She could not keep her eyes from him for too long. Part of her had resolved not to give in so easily; even if he had not meant to, he had torn fences down and they needed time to be rebuilt. Yet his presence was too much for her to resist, the spark of hope as well as something else recognised in his eyes. When he uttered the words she had so longed to hear – in a public place, no less – she was back to adoring him with her whole soul.

_However, whatever, whenever._

A surge shot through her, electricity tingling in her nerves. She had had the thought several times, and his admission had made her bold enough to voice it. He would not think less of her. She would do it for him. They needn't wait. A few weeks, a story that she had already crafted, and they could be gone. It might have been wrong in the eyes of others, but never to her. The only wrong was if they could not truly be together. When he had grasped her hand she held her breath, thinking this was finally it, that he would finally concede to all of their greatest wishes.

Time went too quickly, and he told her gently that she should make a move; he didn't want her to risk a reprimand in front of all of the others. She hardly cared, feeling that it was more of a trial to have to say goodbye to him once more. He felt the same, saying that he could be spared a few minutes to walk her outside. She told rather than asked him to come back, if only for a visit – though she hoped fervently for more. When he shook his head regretfully she made a final shot, repeating her offer from before. She knew the consequences of course, but she could only see the rewards.

Her heart was on an edge as she looked at him with wide eyes. The three words he returned were the sweetest she had heard in her life.

_"Be my wife."_


	11. The Summit of Joy

"Miss O'Brien warned me that it wouldn't do get on the wrong side of him," John said in a hushed whisper, inwardly delighting in the way Anna's features crinkled as she stifled a burst of laughter at the comment. "I wasn't ever aware that there was a right side."

She shook her head, leaning further over so her side was nearly pressed against his. "How the pair of them can be so high and mighty when they do nothing but snipe…Thomas may have a rather flimsy excuse now, but as for her, hanging on to his coattails…"

He could see that she was getting increasingly worked up by the way her earlobes had begun to glow red, and he realised that absolutely nothing about her would ever fail to endear him wholly. Seeing her hand hanging by her side, perilously close to his, made his heart ache with longing even now; to be this close to her was not merely an impulse but a need, and sometimes he wondered whether it would ever be filled completely. He could still feel her slight frame moulded to his as they huddled against the cold the other night, her palms pressed firmly against his chest. If he wasn't already addicted to her touch, now there was no question about it.

While others passed out of sight, moving from the hall as the final preparations for the concert were made, John touched his palm to the small of her back, a gesture of reassurance that he would be with her for good and proper. The smile she fixed him with bowled him over; he'd never seen anyone so radiant. He couldn't help but be pleased when she arched subtly against his hand. How had he survived without her?

"Don't worry about them, they can't do anything," she uttered in a voice tinged with the slightest apprehension on his behalf.

"Oh, I'm not worried," he answered confidently, which he saw surprised her. "How could I ever be worried when I have you?"

Anna smiled wider, her blushes seeming down to an altogether different kind of emotion now.

Lady Edith had gone around the audience, making sure the officers were comfortable, before she took her seat at the piano. As she practised a few notes, John sung the familiar tune in his head while he kept his gaze on Anna, obviously caught up in the music as she started to sway a little on her heels and bobbed her head.

"When we have the time, I should take you to a music show," he was happy with her reaction as she turned to him once more, "or the pictures perhaps, if there is anything you would like to see."

"Why, Mr Bates, what's brought this on? You've been here five minutes and you want to get away again. Whatever will Mr Carson say?" she joked with a little giggle.

"I wouldn't go far, and you'd be by my side, which is the main thing." This time he turned and dared to take her hand for a few seconds. "You are my fiancée now, and I think we should celebrate that fact."

Her lips pursed before she smiled joyously. "I dare say we should, Mr Bates."


	12. Lost and Found

After the initial shock had settled somewhat, everyone began to disperse from the hall with slow and dazed steps that betrayed the horror that was felt collectively. The servants began to traipse back to the far end of the house, headed for their respective quarters in their nightclothes. Anna and Mr Bates let the others pass before them, aware that Mrs Hughes and Mr Carson were still behind checking that all was well as it could be. They kept in pace with one another, Anna toying with the edge of her robe as she pulled it tighter around her.

"It's…it's just awful," she trembled, her face ashen as she turned it up towards him. "Our William." Her breath left her in a gasp. "And poor Mr Crawley." She was aware that the worst could very well happen, but it didn't bear thinking about.

"Nothing's certain in war. You learn that quickly." Shadows of memories that ought to be forgotten passed over his features, and then he looked at her again, wanting to be able to give her more comfort – to tell her that it would all be fine. "We must just hope for the worst of it to have been and gone."

She nodded, her eyes blinking as she tried to focus them upon the solidity of his frame.

"Maybe I should go downstairs. I don't think that I'll be able to go back to sleep tonight." She tried valiantly to swallow away the lump that was surfacing from the back of her throat thinking about William.

Mr Bates's look was full of concern and he reached a hand towards her, stroking the top of her arm maybe twice.

"You should try. I have a feeling we shall be leaned on more tomorrow." He smiled softly, just the right amount. She liked being reassured by him. "You'll be no use to anyone surviving on scraps of sleep."

The corner of his mouth quirked just perceptibly. She didn't believe that it was hoping now, not after everything, that he was the exception in that statement.

They were not far from the door and both lingered for a moment, simply gazing at one another. Anna shuffled closer, and before she could get up on her tiptoes she felt a flutter as Mr Bates bridged the distance and brushed his lips against hers. It had become their routine since becoming engaged to share a brief kiss before they departed, and this night she had had double, though she wished for a better reason for it.

He smiled at her before he went the opposite way, and she suddenly felt incredibly calm.

* * *

The news had broken but an hour ago, and something within the hall broke along with it. Even though it had been inevitable, it seemed that none of them had really believed it would come to be – that perhaps there was one more miracle left to be had.

Anna sobbed against Mr Bates's chest, her face pressing against him as he held and hushed her in the night, gathering her closer to him in the small space of the courtyard. He didn't say anything, aside from her name a few times over.

Right then, she did not care about anything other than his arms around her. His wife may come back with something else yet, but whatever it was, Anna refused to let it trouble her.

They had all lost one dear one tonight, and it was her intention to never let Mr Bates go.


	13. Salvation

Anna tipped the little bowl of warm water down the sink, disposing of the wad of cotton wool, placing the lid back on the salve and letting out a small sigh in the empty kitchen as she did so. She had done her best to keep her spirits high since he had left for London; since he had received the telephone call from his lawyer with the damning news that the divorce proceedings had ground to a halt. There was no doubt in her mind that it was not over. Whatever had to be done, they would find a way. After he had allowed himself to be so positive, she hated to see Mr Bates –  _John_ , she corrected herself in her head – ground down once more.

She could not let it lie. Her concern was not so much for what had transpired – his few hushed words and the reddened cut by his eye were evidence of how dreadful it must have been – but for his wellbeing. Her heart ached to think it all would sink him further into despair with little way out. She waited until they were the last ones left in the hall, sorrow gathering as she observed him with his head hung down, not once looking at her. Even though she was aware of the reason, she mourned that he ignored her purposely.

As he let her back in, letting her tend to his wound with as much care and consideration as the nurses had tended to the now departed officers, he gradually began to speak. Nothing came as a surprise, sadly. Vera had been angry. He had allowed his temper to flare in turn but stopped before he was pushed too far, biting his tongue. Anna said she wished she had been there to offer a piece of her mind; he shook his head fiercely, wincing but not at her gentle touch.  _It will take more than money_ , he relayed what had been said. It would take more than what was in heaven and earth to stop them from being together, Anna countered confidently.

The intimate scene made her think of what Jane had raised when they had been sitting at the table just a few days ago.  _A valet and a housemaid being wed_. Perhaps they would go down in the history books. The thought made Anna smile. She did not care about fame or the thoughts of others. All she wanted from life was to share it with the man she loved so deeply.

"Our parlour will probably be quarter the size of here," her flow was natural, and she caught his gaze, smiling a little bashfully. "We can sit down at night and rest for as long as we want. Make tea in the kitchen at all hours. I don't mind mending old rags if I have to. I want it to be wonderful for us."

She let out a little gasp as he tipped her head towards him, and relishing in his touch – realising just now that she had needed as much comfort as he had – she moved slightly, bringing her own fingers tentatively to his cheek. This time he welcomed her completely, sighing as she caressed his skin. He pressed a kiss into her palm, and it seemed a deeper promise than ever.

"It will be," he uttered with certainty. "The most wonderful thing I've ever known."


	14. The Better Deal

John sat at the table, worrying over the waistcoat that was laid out before him. No matter how much of an effort he was making, nothing was shifting the stain marked just above the pocket. Putting the chalk back into the box defeated, he went back to being preoccupied with the thought that had remained on his mind ever since his Lordship had made the offhand remark. His common sense seemed to have deserted him in these months of endless bargaining, but now it seemed to slot into place. Another foolish decision he had made. He should have known that there was a quite different method to everything Vera said or asked. There wasn't anything definite that could link him to buying the poison, not that he could think of. Still, he wasn't sure that he could keep quiet entirely – the fact was tormenting him enough even now.  _What a stupid man you are._

He lifted his gaze to find Anna rounding the table, taking her seat next to him. She tried to smile, but there was a cloud over her features preventing it. Unlike him, she did not keep her anxieties to herself for long.

"Sir Richard cornered me before." John's eyes flashed. "I told him that I wouldn't be going to Haxby with him and Lady Mary. But that wasn't his offer. He wanted me to spy on Lady Mary. Well, maybe not spy, but report on all of her actions. Who she saw, and what not."

"That sounds rather like spying to me."

Anna nodded, halfway between shock and sadness. "I've told Mrs Hughes and Mr Carson, and I ought to tell Lady Mary, I know. I'm just a little worried, in case she thinks bad of me."

John frowned. "She has no reason to. You're defending her, as any good servant should."

"I just wish that I could do more," she sighed, downcast. Her eyes shone with a faded glimmer as she looked to him, and she reached her hand over the table. "I'm sorry. You have enough to think about."

He swallowed, taking her palm into his. "Don't ever think you can't come to me with your troubles. I'll do whatever I can to make them go away, even if it's just listening."

She beamed a terrific smile, unaware of her own power to make him forget the shadows for a few peaceful moments.

"I hope that Lady Mary will come to her senses in time," she commented, gazing down at their entwined fingers forming a perfect circle. "Mr Crawley is out of the question, but there has to be someone better." Anna exhaled a breath and John found he was fascinated by this smallest of movements. "Still, I feel sorry that she should have second best."

"Many would say it's better than nothing," he remarked, regretting now the decision that had marred his life and chance for true happiness.

Her golden head lifted defiantly. "I told her it wouldn't do for me. It was you, or nobody. We might not have it easy, but I know that I have the better deal by far."

He wasn't sure that he could be deemed the best for anyone, and certainly not for someone so much higher than him as she was. Yet once more, it was her belief that made him not resign himself yet.

And for that reason, he smiled back.


	15. Not Just A Memory

She remembered having the idea when she had gone along to try and halt Lady Sybil's elopement. Of course there would be too much to risk for them to go about it in that way, but it simply would not leave her head. Every day that passed was a step closer. There were registry offices, and all they needed was a free afternoon. Nobody was sure what the future would bring but she only knew she would be a part of his. She told him they would be married, and she would not take no for an answer.

She remembered the way her heart had taken flight from her chest when he informed her that he'd done as she had asked, and what's more it would be much sooner than she had hoped. She believed she might have been hearing things. She wanted to kiss him right there and then, sealing the promise upon their lips. He had set both of their dreams to coming true, and she smiled at him as she left the hall, wishing the time away.

She remembered the sorrow that had descended for poor Miss Swire, taken so quickly. It had made everyone quite dazed. They sat together, both contemplating how fortunate they were to have their health, to have one another. As she lamented he asked if perhaps she wanted to delay, and she thought maybe her answer that she wouldn't lie in her grave unless  _Mrs Bates_  was on her tombstone might have made him troubled. Instead he took her hand and smiled, and they both knew life or any other great power could not stop them.

She remembered the butterflies she felt in her stomach when she followed him inside, the bouquet held in her hands and his look towards her. He had never looked so handsome to her, and it wasn't until they were standing there that she recognised he was wearing the suit he had been when he had arrived. Seven years ago, and it had led them here, pledging their vows and eternal devotion. Her beaming smile was reflected in his eyes, the love written upon him making her glow. They were husband and wife, together, at long last.

She remembered the slow kisses that were savoured as they stood in the room, being truly alone for the night. Her hands had trembled as she had started to undress him, and she felt her nerves begin to fade when he stilled them, his lips pressing reverently to her skin. It seemed they didn't leave her for a second and she had cried with the deepest joy when they became one. She loved the feeling of his fingers in her hair while his mouth was against hers, and she felt faintly embarrassed by the way she had let her inhibitions go as they loved each other once more. He had smiled through tears of adoration, cupping her face and telling her between kisses that he had never known such bliss.

She remembered never being so happy in her whole life.

She remembered having to restrain her happiness when they all had walked solemnly to the church, clouds hanging in the sky above. They managed to hold hands for a few moments, small moments which were no longer stolen without true right. Just knowing he was there – her  _husband_  – was enough to sustain her. She remembered having to restrain herself from flinging her arms around him, pulling him back as the two men wanted to lead him away. They didn't know her strength, they didn't know how long they had fought to get here. The memory of their urgent kiss was on her lips as they trembled, hardly believing it had come to be so soon. The fight might have been numbed within her just for now but it had not disappeared, just as her heart hadn't yet ceased to beat.

He was her husband, everyone knew it now. He was her husband, and he would not just be a memory.


	16. The Last Time

Time had always been a precious commodity at Downton – back in a life that belonged to another man, almost a stranger to his mind. Now, as he languished in his solitary cell, the darkness not only surrounding him outside of his body, time was the only thing he possessed. The minutes and hours crawled by at an interminable pace, the yawning silence interrupted by shouts of other prisoners – and occasionally, the cold slam of the guillotine in the distance, a lurking reminder of a fate that was to be inescapable for the most unfortunate. John spent every second that he was able cradling the photograph of Anna –  _his wife_ , he reminded himself in the worst and the more tolerable times. Many a time the tears from his eyes fell upon the picture, and he wiped them as hastily as he could, not wanting to taint her any further.

He had been allowed no visitors in the first three months after his arrest, in all the time of questioning and evidence, and having to face the time without any sign of her but the vision that existed in his head was the hardest test. When she did come to see him he was so ecstatic for that half hour that he hardly noticed the dark shadows that lined her eyes, the grey pallor of her usually fair skin. The next time her deterioration was all he could envision. He did not spend time ruminating upon his innocence and the injustice of his case. That he had given her such an ordeal to contend was the greatest crime he could ever commit. Eight months apart, with not even three full days spent together as man and wife.

His trial was over, and the worst outcome had come to be.  _Sentenced to death_ , for having no part in a life being taken. Yet another life was on the brink; he had watched the light ebb away from her eyes as she was shocked into silence, his focused entirely upon hers as he was led back down. This would be her life sentence, one that she never should have bore and would forever be haunted by, long after he had gone.

Time could be measured in seconds and minutes now, the clocks that he couldn't hear ticking down towards the hour of his judgement. He had come to terms with it, at least on his own behalf, and he counted the hours until he was able to see her, for the last time. He had never placed a great deal of value on his life, not until she had brought so much into it.

He told her to forgive, even smiled when she vowed that she would have married him again in that very moment. His life held many regrets, but loving her could never be one of them. After he spoke up they had been allowed one more kiss and embrace. Neither thought of it as the final one. He knew that Anna believed in another life after this – a better one – and his belief in her gave him comfort. Still, as his head rested upon her shoulder, he couldn't bear to let go.  _A few seconds more…_

Tears streamed down her cheeks as the door opened, the guard taking her by the arm and her roughly shrugging away.  _No crying, my love_ , he whispered, and she wiped her hands over her face, managing a glimmer of a smile which he returned.

Even though there were yet more to face, he took this as the final moment of his life.


	17. The Sun Rises, The Sun Sets

The day had been a long one, but was also over quite quickly what with the whirling rush of everything. Weeks of preparation and pandemonium had resulted in much joy, and Anna was happy for it, as much as she was happy to get into her nightgown and recline on her bed, feet pulsing from the memory of shoes.

There hadn't been much call for Lady Mary to require her after she had changed from the ceremony. Both of them had felt the shift that had been brought on since that morning, and despite her confident display to her mama hours earlier the facade slipped out of place against the exposing, clear glare of the mirror. Anna brushed out the tresses with extra care, meeting the eyes that were near as dark and burnished as her hair with a gentle and reassuring smile, allowing the flashes of heat and unveiled secrecy to peer through for seconds here and there – just enough so that the new bride would know that nothing but wonder would await.

She pursed her lips tight when Lady Mary looked away to dot scent at her wrists, hoping that her envy did not show.

The silence of the room, and the walls beyond, was unnerving. Mr Carson was exceedingly pleased that all had gone off without a hitch, but he had been more tired at the arrival of the evening than anyone else. Mrs Hughes thought him a fool for being so attached to the eldest Crawley daughter, yet Anna had empathy. It was hard enough for him to usher in change on any given day, and the weariness behind his not-oft displayed smile told of time's unstoppable march, with all the unpredictably it would carry as its passenger.

She did not like being alone at night, and she was quickly reminded of the fact, temporary peace drifting from her head and out of her hands. She clasped them together, offering up the variation on the same prayer she had given every night since his life had been reprieved. The lurch from the pit of her stomach travelled up to the left side of her chest, and she shuddered still to remember. The agony and the ache would never be forgotten, no matter that it was no longer true. She gave thanks, but didn't ask in her desperation. God had given her quite enough; it was up to her to do the rest. And she would do it, regardless of how little sleep she was likely to get.

Getting between the covers, she fumbled at her bedside beneath the piles of envelopes, being careful not to scatter or tip them over. She had read his letters so often that she could quote them by heart, his words engraved there. Tonight she decided on some different reading to lull her to slumber, or otherwise make being awake seem less of a trouble. Her small smile grew larger as she turned the pages of the volume of poetry; one of his favourites, she had kept from the moment he had uttered so in the servants' hall, holding the book within his large hands.

She took on his love for the words as she absorbed them, and it was little surprise to her. She looked at the world through his eyes now. It was a promise she made to him, as much as it was for her own sake too.

She didn't see the whispers passed from mouth to ear to mouth as she went by in the village. She didn't see anything but regret in Mrs Hughes' eyes, becoming blind to the grudge she had held since the beginning of the year.

Closing the book she blinked away the tears that still came, looking out to a change in the pattern upon the curtains; an unknown spot somewhere towards the west.

The sun had long set, and she was a day closer to having him home for good.


	18. A Sweeter Sound Sings Out

He sits at the desk crammed in one corner of the cell, his reserved domain alone. Craig doesn't write, he has noticed in the time they have spent as cellmates – the word especially ill-fitting in this circumstance – and it wouldn't be much of a surprise if he were to discover the man was in fact illiterate. John didn't hold any of life's misfortunes against him. It was the fact that he didn't seem to possess any interests, besides making the crawling hours as miserable as he possibly could, clicking his tongue loudly against his cheek and banging his feet repeatedly against the posts of his bunk. John gritted his teeth with the pencil between his finger and thumb; as immune as he was teaching himself to be to the droning noises that echoed around the close walls, they did affect his concentration at a time when he craved it the most.

"You writing your memoirs, Bates?" the other man coughs in barely-disguised contempt. "No bloody point, other than giving you arse-ache. Unless you're going to say how you murdered that first wife of yours."

He paints on a smirk as he turns just enough in his seat. Amusement has to be found in some moments, even if they are repetitive.

"I'd rather have arse-ache and everything else than to bear looking at your face."

That shuts him up for now, though the thud of socked sole against metal starts up not seconds later.

The man didn't have enough intelligence, not even enough common sense, to realise that misery ran far deeper in his soul, and didn't have the least to do with him.

He stops writing – he has barely written anything, aside from  _My dearest love Anna_  – and instead unfurls the faintly-scented note pages retrieved from his pocket. He needs to hear her voice in his head now, drowning all else out, soothing him with her soft and quite particular tones, cheering and piecing together his broken spirit with her peals of laughter. Today has been not-so-dark a day, despite it all, and he has the belief, brought nearer than its usual unreachable distance, that he will hear her laugh again in the middle of a cold winter, arms wrapped about her and his lips breathing kisses to the back of her neck.

She is always so optimistic in her letters; in turn they give him conviction he never could have bargained on even flourishing long enough to exist in here. This latest had been sent not long after she arrived in France, and if he hasn't lost track of time completely she will be close to home by now. Though he told her the opposite - that she must go out and see the world - a selfish part of him is glad of that. Her visits are the lifeline that keep him going. He imagines the sun of Cannes lightly brushing her cheeks beneath her wide-brimmed hat, giving her an added glow that she didn't need but would wear just as marvellously.

Against the small details of the foreign climes, never seen by her before, it is the prospect of getting back and discovering which correspondences await that excites her the most. He wishes he had her hope that they would contain something of worth, though he doesn't do away with the fondness he has that she is thinking of him, when so many wonderful things are going on around her.

He never stops thinking,  _dreaming_ , of her.

He lingers upon her cryptic line that she has ' _something I came across and couldn't help myself – but I'll keep it back, as I wish to see the look on your face when I tell you of it.'_ Surely she knows that any phrase of hers makes him grin as if he were locked up for insanity rather than murder.

The last line he hears as clear as day, and his heart crumples for as much as he smiles towards the wall.

' _I will never give up, not until I hold you in my arms again_ '.


	19. Happy as Lovebirds

They'd shared a chuckle about Mr Carson and his unrelenting views when it came to Mr Branson, and she found the smile lighting his eyes enchanting, sending a sharp but deeply warm sensation charging through her. The last thing she wanted to do whenever she came here was to add to his troubles, and she did her utmost to shrug off the possibility that her imminent trip to London would be a fruitless one, but there did lie an anxiety beneath it all that she couldn't shake completely. She had a strange feeling that this Mrs Bartlett could be the key, quite literal as well as proverbial, and though it didn't make much sense to cling to hope that was out of her hands, she was so restless to set the wheels in motion.

"You will take care, won't you?" His voice was hushed and delicate, seeming for a second or two that it didn't belong within his broad and bulky frame. She knew far more of his gentle soul, couldn't stop herself from thinking about the way his hands had once touched her with so much tenderness as he linked his fingers upon the top of the table. "Not that I don't think you can fend for yourself..."

"I should hope not," she interjected, sounding livelier than she felt at the fact.

His eyes softened. She was at a loss of what to do with her hands, keeping them knitted in her lap. The urge to reach out towards him seized her at times, and as much as it would be worth it –  _it would be worth all the sleepless nights and sorrowful moments that caught her throughout the days_ \- she also couldn't bear to have the precious visit cut short.

"I never knew that much about her, but I suspect she was friends with Vera for a reason."

"She can say what she likes about me. As long as we may have another word from her at the end of it."

Hope against hope. It was what they must make do with, for now.

"It's all rather quick with Lady Edith, isn't it?"

She smiles at him, twisting the ring on her finger, securing it in place although it was already quite settled upon her.

"Not in some ways. She's been very keen on Sir Anthony for a good while now. Before the war, at any road."

"You notice these things better than I do."

 _Thank the stars that I did,_ she thinks, a thought that often occurs to her. Everybody sees her as brave and strong for getting on with things, but she knows quite well that any strength she possesses comes from being married lawfully to the man she loves with her whole heart and being.

She gets a flush of pride, tilting her head back and leaning closer against the table, rousing a different kind of look from him.

"I think if his Lordship hadn't been convinced to let it go ahead that I might have been called upon to speak Lady Edith's case," she confesses with a smile she can't keep down. "She mentioned you and I when she was courting Sir Anthony, because of the difference between us, I suppose. Said that we were as happy as lovebirds." Her cheeks colour deeper when she utters the delightful words. "A good example."

It appears to have baffled him that any of the family should think of them in that way.

"I know she often feels overlooked," he begins, his eyes warm with sympathy – their affinity with Lady Edith remembered well. "But it's a strange kind of happiness that she envies."

She understands what he means, and these walls and bars between them are the only shadows that are cast.

"I am happy whenever I think of you," she replies, letting the gold gleam of her wedding ring appear, a ray of light in the grey room. He eyes it with a smile that widens, soft and covering her. "Of course I'd be even happier if I could look at you more, but we mustn't keep it all for ourselves."

They laugh again, her heart lifting higher.

One day soon she will have all the happiness it can hold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This comes directly after a cut scene from the S3 script books (pg, 144; Anna visits John before she sees Mrs Bartlett and before Edith's wedding). Thanks to Kristen_APA for pointing me to this bit in the timeline!


	20. A Danger to Himself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a trigger warning for depression/implied suicidal thoughts. I didn't expect to go this dark here, but this is what happened when I wrote, and you can skip the chapter in the safe knowledge that canon is adhered to.

He had almost completely banished the possibility from his mind, the walls confining his thoughts as well as his body. When the reality hits him – though it hasn't been confirmed, nobody cruel or otherwise kind enough to deliver the blow – it stings with an agony searing even deeper than he had expected. He was a fool for being so complacent, for allowing the natural tide to turn within him. The time he had been dreading for as long as he could remember – for there no longer seemed to have been a life he knew without her – had finally come, catching him off guard.

Anna had decided that the fight was simply too much to conquer.

(He couldn't blame her; she had been fighting so long, battling everything that had come her way, brought by the shadows that had chased him)

An ember of hope remained within him, though each time he stood in line for long moments only to be passed by in a brutal second water drenched the flame, cold within his veins. The absence of her letters made years out of days, and the lack of her visits turned them into eternities. Silence set him to drown, plodding steps halting upon the floor as he hauled himself onto his bed of stone.

(At least he was alone; he wasn't sure whether it would be worse with Craig watching overhead, the strange irony of it seeming fitting as he would begin his descent)

He still tried to make sense of it, unwilling to accept the logic without thought. It was absolutely unexpected. She had been buoyant last time, more so than ever before, smiling with the look of joy before she left him again.

(Hot tears pricked at his eyes, burning and blinding him. He needed to get past the pity if he were to see this through)

She must have been exhausted, the long days and demands quite trying enough without the burden of him weighing upon her soul. He didn't blame her, he never would. The happiness of others surrounded her and unfairly engulfed her in misery, his darkness shadowing and slowly eclipsing her light. A lifetime of it was too much to take, and she had come to realise that now. She would still love him even as she let go of him, but love didn't exist in one form alone, after all.

He might know for sure one day; one last letter written in her hand, delivered into his, to give him the goodbye.

(He doubted he would be around to read it; if he could just hurry up - )

Without her, all was pointless. He could have been released tomorrow and his life would be a constant prison, darker and more solitary than the depths of hell. If he no longer had her love, nothing mattered.

(He pulls the blade upwards, his hands still shaking as he settles it against his skin)

Another reprieve comes. Visiting time is over, and it seems like a coincidence it was the very moment that her voice should cry out in his head. He is disgusted with himself, shuddering violently; a strange kind of relief cleansing him.

Dent gives him the kindness the next day as they sit sewing, and it is only then that the emotion overtakes him, tears replaced by a smile and blackness borne out by brightness, saving him from himself.

She hadn't given up after all, and it was the best news he could receive.


	21. What You Never Had

It was very strange to go on as if life were normal. Anna thought that perhaps it was another role that they had to perform downstairs; that their going unnoticed from here to there and back again would somehow go a way to settling things into place.

But there was not anyone under the roof that had been left untouched by the shock and raw sadness brought on by Lady Sybil's passing, only hours after she had been made a mother. Even those who only knew her as a name and by a few glimpses of her pretty face, Alfred and Jimmy and Ivy as well as the hall boys and maids too young to remember what had been only a couple of years ago, were made sombre and reflective by the memories of others that were left lingering. Anna had only helped to dress her once when she had been back at Downton, Madge being put to the task instead on Mrs Hughes's recommendation that she needed the practice. She remembered very fondly, Lady Sybil always being the least fuss and having hardly changed in all the years since. The only bother she complained of was of hot flushes and feeling too big for everything she tried on. Anna had smiled seeing the sizeable bump Lady Sybil carried, assuring her that she suited her clothes better than ever.

The funeral was in two days time, and mourning in the house had not yet reached its peak, Anna could tell. Mrs Hughes and Mrs Patmore were as busy as ever – if they ever stopped, it seemed as though the world really would cease to spin. Not wanting to feel useless, she volunteered to go into the village and pick up what was usually needed to make the house run; there was enough extra for either housekeeper or cook to worry about. She took the basket into her hands, feeling a little guilty for carrying her bag – and the letter that was within – inside it. No doubt Mrs Hughes would have told her off if she had confessed it. News about Mr Bates was a glimmer of hope on the horizon that kept them all going. She had sacrificed her last visit to Mr Murray, but it had been worth it to get things moving. In the meantime she had wrote, pouring out her grief in the next best way she was able. He had always liked Lady Sybil too, and she knew he would feel the pain as much as the rest of them.

Tears came fast to her eyes as it drizzled unseasonably. She couldn't help thinking of Mr Branson and the anguish he had been plunged into. The baby girl, held but once by a mother she would have no recollection of. They wouldn't be without help, but sometimes all the help in the world could prove no use.

She stopped crying before she got to the first shop. Lady Sybil was one of a kind and would want to be remembered happily.

On the way back, shopping bought and letter safely posted, she found herself thinking back to a little over a year ago. It was so strange; so much had happened in the time being that in some sense it seemed like it had only been a dream she had had one night; a mere illusion. It had been, really, but the way she had forgotten the importance troubled her.

_Her cycle had not come for two months. She had not skipped one before, and it seemed like too much of a coincidence. She hadn't expected that it could have happened so soon – after a single night spent together – but perhaps it was a blessing sent from God, having known the tests that would be ahead. The thought kept her strong, and though it would be hard not to have him there, she began to cherish deeply, the more days that passed._

_When the first spots of blood arrived, the telltale signs of the delay in her body as it had ground to a halt since his arrest, she pretended that she had known all along. Her mother's voice came to her, telling her that what you never had you never missed. She knew in her bones that was true, but it didn't stop her heart from feeling differently._

She hadn't put it in the letter, though she had come close. It was something that needed to wait, for a time when she could look him in the eyes, and they could grieve together.


	22. Just A Little Longer

She is light on her feet, in a wonderful daze that has transported her from the library. Her breath is coming from her in quick gasps, and she does feel rather light-headed, although not in the way she has been used to of late – the times when she hadn't been able to stomach much food for sorrow or worry, or when she had sobbed herself to sleep, the endless wait stretching ahead too painfully.

Her hands are clutching the telegram as though it were the most precious article in the world – indeed, it is, to her – and before she descends the last couple of stairs she unfolds it again, her eyes fixing upon the words she had spent months longing to read. To be absolutely sure. Her left hand rests upon the top of her chest to attempt to calm and tether her to the ground when she is lifting steadily away. Beneath, her heart thrums furiously, banging like a drum to announce the merriment.

At last, someone else has shared her conviction, making what has always been true for her wholly so in the eyes of the law.

She doesn't look where she is going, careless in every sense of the word for a rare occasion, and clashes into Mrs Hughes at the foot of the staircase. The blow is cushioned by the linen the housekeeper is laden with.

"Oh, Anna –"

"I'm sorry, Mrs Hughes," she says in a rush, the grin across her face at odds with a sincere apology.

The hand that is holding onto the piece of paper juts out, still trembling, and the elder woman smiles warmly when she takes sight of it.

"I don't think I need to ask whether it was good news?" she offers gently.

Anna both shakes and nods her head – she is all-a-flutter, and the feeling is wondrous.

"Mr Bates is coming home," she announces again, the words giving her more joy each time she utters them. "Finally, he'll be back where he belongs."

"Oh, my girl," Mrs Hughes' hand is upon her arm, bracing her. "That is wonderful. It should have been much sooner, we've all thought it."

"I won't disagree," she replies, unable to stop smiling. "But it's happening now, and I doubt I could be any happier about it." She'll only be happier when she throws her arms around him, holds him close to her in the full light of day. "I told Lady Mary and his Lordship first. They've been so kind through it all, and I thought..."

She falters for a moment, catching the housekeeper's eye. Mrs Hughes must have known of her forgiveness, long since given as her support had been so valuable in the last few months. Maybe she ought to have sealed it properly by giving her the news before anyone else.

Her arm received a reassuring pat. "You can tell whoever you want to, my dear." Mrs Hughes' smile was gracious.

Anna breathed properly for the first time since she had opened the telegram. "To be honest, I feel as if I will have told the world by luncheon."

Mrs Hughes chuckled. "Well, we should start getting things in order. There'll be quite a celebration to be had, if you don't mind."

The certain note in the elder woman's voice made her flush, but luckily her colour was already up.

"Not at all, Mrs Hughes. We'll both be very glad of it."

She adjusted the bundles in her arms. "I'll put these away, and then you can come to my room for a cup of tea, to catch your breath."

"Thank you, Mrs Hughes. There's just something I want to do first."

"Of course."

Leaving the housekeeper to head in the direction of the laundry room, Anna was back up the stairs and in her own room in short time.

She clung onto the telegram as she rummaged for a clean sheet of paper. Her pencil was nearly worn down, and her hand was still shaking, though she did her best to print the words carefully. It wouldn't be straight away, after all. Just a little longer, but God knows she could wait.

_"My love,"_ she recited those words as she wrote them, her breath a rasp and her heart singing.

She pauses, pressing the page to her lips before she writes further. Soon she would kiss him again - tingles ran through her at the very thought.

_You'll be home again._

_My husband_ , she said to herself over and over.

She had gone nowhere, but very soon she would feel at home again too.


	23. Alone At Last

The fields had never been greener or more prosperous than when they had walked through them on the way to the grounds of the estate. It had been raining before they left the Abbey, and for a little while he wondered if they should postpone their trip. One look at Anna, already with her gloves on and with an eager and beaming smile on her face, told him that no other time would do. He'd walk until he was drenched to the bone, never failing to be happy as long as she was by his side. She made a little humming sound as he stretched her coat over her shoulders, letting out a half-giggle when his nose nudged against the skin just above her collar.

The shower brought the very last drops of the dying summer down to bless the earth, and a sweet scent lingered in the air afterward, the paving outside the cottages shimmering beneath their feet – a rainbow path marking the way. They were simple, and no doubt crumbling on the inside, regardless of the renovations that had been carried out in recent years. He confessed that he had never really given much thought to them or the people who lived inside, though their names sounded familiar when Anna listed them. Soon enough, the Bateses would join the estate, setting up their home, the place they had so long dreamed of. A dream that seemed even greater when it was so close to coming into life.

There was the matter of his employment, but his worries about that faded away the longer he gazed upon his marvel of a wife, feeling her palm snug against his. He longed to feel her touch closer, to have the bliss of skin pressed upon skin, and wondered about delicately slipping the glove from her hand. As it was, he simply couldn't bear to loose his fingers from hers.

It had been something of a wait, but there was no mistaking. Life was sweet, indeed.

She curled herself closer into him while they walked in step; he smiled as she ran her other hand up and down his arm, squeezing his forearm delicately. Even when they had been in the servants' hall with eyes flitting here and there, she could not curb her need to touch him for very long. He welcomed every small stroke and caress, finding it hard to temper the fire that was rising in the pit of his stomach. He let her see it in his eyes, and her yearning smile made his mouth go dry. A bell that he couldn't answer didn't need to remind him of where they were. He groaned almost silently, but was placated when she met his gaze with a promise, brushing his hand with her fingertips in the same way as her lips would later kiss his cheek warm and soft sometime before they needed to go to their separate quarters.

All of the little things he had longed for so much. Everything to him.

She was everything.

"We should get back," he remarked as they ambled, still amongst the trees on the twisting path that ran through them. "You've got lots to do."

She tutted as she grinned up at him, the shifting sunlight held in the depths of her eyes. If only she wasn't wearing her hat – as much as he loved how she looked in them. The rays would pale in comparison to the gold of her hair, though they already cowed against the beauty of her smile.

"And so will you soon enough, so you should make the most of this."

"Oh, I am," he returned. Finally, as she had told him to, he believed. It flooded him from head to toe, made him so very glad to be here. "God knows that this is all I've ever wanted, and now that I have it, I will cherish every single second."

He squeezed her hand, causing her to gasp a little and then smile widely. He cherished her always, but now it overtook him, made him stronger with every step.

They came to the end of the clearing, Downton Abbey visible in the distance. She made the same little, irresistible sound as she had done before they had left, released in a soft rush through her lips, and he swept her up into his arms the next second, calling upon his reserves of strength, truly feeling invincible.

The urgent kiss left them both somewhat breathless, Anna gazing starry-eyed and stunned with her arms looped around his neck.

He smiled, the imprint of his wife on his lips, her body flush against his.

"While we're still alone," he gave by way of answer for his spontaneous display. "At last."


	24. The Best of Things

Anna snugged down beneath the covers, feeling better now that she had given them a good wash through. Everything was becoming less grimy and dusty now, and much more homely. She wondered when she would stop smiling at that fact. She couldn't imagine that it would happen anytime soon, and so people would need to put up with her foolish grinning for a while longer. Gladly, there was nobody to complain about it here.

Mr Bates –  _she must stop calling him that, even if she thrilled to be reminded of her wedded name_ – was finishing off the pot of tea she had brewed, a little too generous in her estimations. As soon as he drunk the last drop he'd be up, he vowed to her, but she told him to take his time. They had the rest of their lives together, all the nights that they could want to spend with one another. She smirked to herself when she considered that she wanted him well-rested before he joined her. Somehow it seemed entirely appropriate for her to accommodate those kind of thoughts in this very place. Completely natural, in fact.

There wasn't much else that needed to be done downstairs. Maybe a couple of trinkets for the fireplace and cabinets. They could have a look on their next half-day if they went into Ripon, or Thirsk. She was immensely proud of the work they had done in getting everything up to scratch - even if she didn't let him climb ladders or do anything too strenuous, it was a team effort. After supper or before they left for work in the morning she would find herself standing in their living room, her arms hugging around herself, taking it all in and being so pleased that she could burst. When he put his arms around her, nestling his frame to hers, she knew that everything was in place.

She put down the book that she was struggling to read – preferring him to do the honours instead – and gazed up to the ceiling. Their bedroom was the last room that needed attention. Even the little box room was in a more presentable state at the moment. They had a wardrobe and one cabinet between them, and she'd managed to run up a bit of spare fabric to act as some makeshift curtains.  _"We'll need those, at least," he had mumbled, between pressing kisses to her collarbone_ ,  _determined to make them late that particular morning._

Their bedroom. Not singular rooms at opposing sides of a dividing door. It was such a luxury, as well as being deeply longed for. She did still feel rather naughty for sneaking across that one night before they were bestowed with the keys to the cottage, nightgown draping along the floor as she kept her steps silent. It had been worth it though, even with the yet earlier rise in the morning. She had been able to go about her day much easier knowing that she carried the fresh memory of her husband's body upon the naked skin beneath her clothes.

The familiar sound of his steps, one landing heavier than the other, were heard climbing the stairs outside, and they both smiled as he came in, his hair flopping as he closed the door behind him. She watched as he removed his waistcoat and then his shirt, unable to hide the hunger in her eyes. He was hers, these private moments theirs and all was so very right.

"I hope you've forgiven me," he uttered, shrugging out of his trousers and neatly folding them.

"Whatever for?"

"For insisting we have Miss O'Brien over as our first visitor."

She tipped her head to the side, taking in a better view of him. "I'd forgotten about her, to be quite honest. And she was even quite nice, in her own funny way."

He sighed as he sat near the foot of the bed. "We'll see if it does any good. But at least I feel more at rest."

Her smile grew effortlessly. "I feel very much at rest as it is."

He gave a small shake of his head, turning towards her just at the moment she decided to push the covers over her legs, crawling the short distance to him.

"Come here, Mr Ba –  _John_ ," she said huskily, weaving her hands into his hair as she rose on her knees above him, leaving him helpless. "I believe we have some other business to take care of now."

"Very well," he agreed once he had replied to her fervent kiss, brushing his lips against her cheek before casting a glance past her shoulder. "But we should probably draw the curtains first."

She laughed in delight, helping him with one side before they found their way, in each other's embrace, back to bed.


	25. Full of Surprises

It had taken her a couple of minutes walking to realise that she had made a wrong turning from the room, and now she was nearly at the end of the corridor that took her much further away from the servants' hall. Duneagle wasn't as big a house as Downton, but then all of the hallways and staircases there were written indelibly on her memory. She huffed quietly, taking a breath before she revolved on her heels. She didn't seem to quite have her bearings with anything here just yet, and it made her wonder if she was quite cut out for travelling after all. Luckily Lady Mary and Mr Crawley wouldn't be looking to journey much with their imminent arrival. She smiled to think about the baby and how exciting it was for everyone – if a little unnerving too, with everything that had happened not too long ago.

This trip was exciting as well, of course. She just needed to feel less like a home-bird, and she was sure that would happen soon.

Getting back onto the concourse of the landing, she quickly cheered to find John standing not too far beneath one of the archways. His subtle smile had carried with him, and she felt warmed by his gaze – and certainly less out of place.

"I got a bit lost."

"It is quite a maze." He was being kind, but she felt nothing but happy. "How is Lady Mary?"

"Letting on that she's better than she really is," she disclosed – it wasn't such a revelation. "Mr Crawley is fretting about her, poor man."

"As I would be, if it were you."

He gave her a smile that was tinged with something resembling hope, and perhaps a bit of anticipation too. In some ways she hadn't stopped thinking about the possibility in the last year, but in others it didn't occur. It was all very different for Lady Mary and Mr Crawley; so much pressure placed upon their shoulders. She very much liked that she and John could take their time, and they were still  _getting used to one another_ , as she had told him with a wink and a smile.

"Well, I wouldn't be being carted across glens and vales. It's still a little early, so I don't think we'll have another honourary Scot on our hands."

His eyes crinkled at her. There was nobody else around, so he reached for her hand.

"I think I caused quite a stir at the dinner table," she said, a touch shy.

"You? Never."

She shook her head with a small smile as she looked up at him. "Next time I'll just eat up, lest I say anything else silly."

John softly squeezed her fingers. "It's Miss Crawley's doing, not Anna's."

She chuckled, making him smile in appreciation. "I have so many names that I don't know whether I'm coming or going."

"Well, you're always Mrs Bates to me," he rasped low. "And I am very glad of that."

She grinned, her stomach flipping over as he brushed his mouth lightly at her cheek. When he pulled away, she noticed a sparkling in his eyes. Before she could ask what he was thinking, he broke the smile on his lips briefly.

"His Lordship will be on the stalk soon, so we can get away for a bit." He glanced around, returning his gaze to her after only a few seconds. "That's if Miss Crawley doesn't mind staying behind, as I'd rather like my wife with me to see the sights."

Anna smiled wide, already looking forward to what was in store.

"She'll be a bit disappointed, but then she'll have Mr Grantham to amuse her, so I'm sure she'll be just fine."

* * *

John turned onto his back, the dusk of the room not doing much to bring him back to sleep. He had dozed for a while; his dreams being full with dancers, Anna at their heart once more, smiling and laughing in delight. She had taken him so much by surprise, and he had been overjoyed to look upon her so light and carefree that he hadn't even thought to be regretful that he couldn't have joined her on the floor. Even if he had been proficient, he never would have been able to match how marvellous she was.

His thoughts whirled in memory of the reeling, and getting much more rest seemed to be hopeless. The soft knock upon the door was disregarded as a phantom at first – he had heard whispers that the castle was haunted – but when another came, he pulled himself up and out of bed to inspect closer.

"Shhh," she held a finger to her mouth that still curved, inching her way inside. He was speechless enough as it was. "I couldn't let you come to the maids' quarters, not that it's such a way away."

"And how did you manage it?" he smirked, taking sight of her bare feet.

"Us creatures of quicksilver and light are very resourceful," she remarked, her hands already upon his face, reminding him of the kiss they shared hours before.

His had slid instinctively to her waist, and she beamed at his touch.

"You'll have to wake me in the morning," she said, before leaning in to him. "But I wanted to surprise you, one last time."

He gazed into her face, still beautiful in the shadows, and couldn't help the smile that erupted.

"You are full of surprises, Mrs Bates."


	26. To Be Loved

Anna smiled while her fingers fumbled with the now unsealed envelope, wanting to be able to gaze at the card and her husband's face simultaneously. She looked at him, sitting across from her at the table and holding her own token in his large but exceedingly careful hands, and they were both only too aware, even if they did their utmost to keep up the pretence of the morning.

They didn't know if they should bother this year. Anna's spirits were tinged with a passive sense of sadness, standing in the shadow of her mistress's mourning each day. More than ever she was thankful that she could find the love within John's eyes for a good portion of the time during the day, seek shelter in the depths of his hidden smiles –  _hidden to everyone else but her_ – and as the dusk descended receive what she had craved since the sunrise. He would whisper into her hair while her face was tucked against him, smiling upon his skin as she relished the sturdy loop of his arm around her waist, fingertips like feathers sinking against her.

_Love, love, love._

_She responded to the word as though it were her given name_.

The decision was a mutual one, agreed in one of their conversations where souls spoke louder than words. Either of them rarely went back on what they had said, and that's why she had been shocked, a tiny bit cross but elated most of all to have found him one evening, legs awkwardly stretched at the side of the bureau, his hand occupied with scribing ink that was always too slow to dry. She glimpsed the pink and purple flowers and small silky bow decorating the front before he had become aware that she was watching him, rather too intently. She had to hold back her laugh while he scrambled, hiding the card from her sight as stealthily as he could – which wasn't very.  _Daft beggar_ , she thought fondly.  _He's a half day tomorrow, he could have waited until then._

For her own part, she wrote hers out as she sat in a spare half-hour at the hall table, taking far too long to consider what she would say that hadn't already been uttered a million times or more. Daisy likely thought she was the daft one when she ran down the hallway after her to make sure she could post it while she went along to Thirsk to pick up the fortnightly supplies.

Her knowing smile remained, though she felt a genuine flutter of surprise race up as she took in what was inside. Aside the verse that had been printed there lay an inscription in John's writing, the curves of his letters considered. Each letter struck her, her heart swelling as she moved onto the next one that followed, then the next, then the next. She could hardly read for the tears that had collected in her eyes, all borne from an emotion much greater than mere sentiment.

They were dried when she met his eyes properly again, and she rose from her seat only seconds before he did the same. She needed to pay him for the gesture immediately and so she hardly cared for any consequences when she pressed her lips to his, barely hidden outside the servants' hall. He had let his tea go cold and so hadn't touched it, and she felt immeasurably glad that she could be the first taste upon his lips that morning. She kept that thought with her all day long as well as the card upon her person, being extra cautious not to crumple or otherwise damage it.

She kept a reserve upon her happiness as she attended to Lady Mary, and shared an amused look with him that recalled something more when Jimmy issued denials of sending Ivy a card. She was glad that she was never bothered with all that when she was younger, though she felt rather like a teenager again when she sneaked another look at her own before the staff dinner was served.

After what seemed far too long they secured the door behind them, kissing properly before setting off on the path for home. Her eyes lit with promise as much as her heart burned.

Later she opened the drawer of the cabinet, putting the card with all the others and the stacks of letters she had kept, reminding her of a time when all was against them, except that which could never be denied.

Reading the affirmation was quite enough, but hearing him speak it as they lay together once more, hearts and bodies singing with joy, made all the difference.

What a thing it was to be loved.


	27. A Helping Hand

He always feels better when he has removed his collar, tie and jacket; the articles put away in storage for the next day along with John Bates, Lord Grantham's valet. He is at home now, the gentle crackling of the fire he has got going giving him almost as much pride as knowing she is standing just behind him. His gaze starts at her feet in their stockings, smiling more and more as he reaches the top of her head. Even though her heels aren't that high, she looks markedly diminutive without them.

A rush of the warmest love fills him, making him feel a bit dizzy as he stands from crouching, full height again. He towers over her, and she does nothing but return his smile with an enthusiasm that belies the long day that they have both encountered. They left not too long after having eaten, Thomas and Miss Braithwaite doing more of their whispering and snickering. He remembered the touch of her hand upon his forearm preventing him before he spoke up – or did worse; her sapphire stare telling him what he knew was the best course of action: to simply ignore them.

"I'll make the tea," he uttered, soft against the hush of their room, defying this other look in her eyes.

"You've been out most of the day," she started, shaking her head as the small flames crackled at her back.

She glanced down, stopping short of the floor. He knew what her concern was, even when she didn't voice it – usually to save his ego. Lighting the fire had gone a little way to soothing the pulsing ache of his knee.

"And you made it the night before," he reminded her, nodding his head towards the relic of a settee. "It won't take me long."

He is true to his word, making up the cups quickly but not with too much haste. His knee seems fine now; it's further up he feels a melancholy, within the left side of his chest. It's silly really, how much he misses her when she is only in the next room.

As it always does, her beaming smile makes all the difference. They take it in turns to sip, sharing in peaceful silence interrupted by their comments.

"I still don't know how you did it, with Mr Molesley."

Her nose is wrinkled ever so slightly in confusion as she cradles her cup in her palm.

"Now, I can't give away all of my secrets, can I?" He winks to appease her, more than happy when she breaks into another grin. "So long as you're no longer upset."

"No," she tips her head to the side, smoothing out his crookedness. "I'm quite the opposite."

That's all he needed to know. Although he acceded that the  _anything_ that he had promised was far from being solved so easily, so he would still happily offer to rub the soles of her feet once they had drained their cups, and let her wrench the bedcovers away from him to ensure that she was snug as could be.

"It was nice to have him around," she continued. "I think he likes my shepherd's pie better than you do."

His eyebrows raised. After rendering the man speechless with the repaid 'favour', John was rather taken aback when Mr Molesley still accepted the offer of supper at the cottage.

"Well, I'm glad it was for one night," he replied, a touch of weariness in his tone, his hands steepled upon his chest.

Anna tutted, though something told him that she wasn't as cross as she should be.

"It must be very lonely for him. I know he has his dad, but it's not the same, is it? He was probably glad of the company."

"Hmmm. I know how that feels."

She had stretched out of her seat, questioning his statement with eyes that danced.

"That is, I know I couldn't be without you." His smile deepened as she came over, and he welcomed her with open arms, shifting on the chair to let her curl up with him.

His breath held as she very gently touched her palm to his knee. It stopped hurting after a second or two, and he held dear the giggle that escaped her as he leaned to place a kiss against her neck. She stroked her other hand at the nape of his, and he fought the urge to close his eyes.

"You've done your good deed," she said cheerily, smiling before she brushed her lips to his.

A wonderful reward.

Her eyes went down, and he smirked curiously as she traced the path of buttons on his chest.

"Anyway," she confided, "I am sure that Mr Molesley isn't half as much trouble as Lady Rose..."


	28. Stolen

_The sun had shone that morning. It had woken her slowly, along with the gentle sound of John's voice in her ear. She opened her eyes, head still full of sleep, and smiled hazily when she saw him in his uniform standing by the bedside. It took her a few minutes to realise, and when she did she was up like a flash. He told her not to rush, his voice lingering in the background; she hardly ever slept in, it didn't matter that much. She told him he should have woken her as she gathered everything, made herself ready. When he didn't answer to her repeated calls of his name, she looked up to see that he was smiling softly towards her._

_"You were so peaceful," he replied after a while, passing the dress on its hanger into her waiting hands. "I couldn't dare."_

_It didn't take her long to get ready at all, and she looked at him as he waited by the doorway while she was still shrugging into her coat._

_"You go ahead," she told him. It would make for a lovely walk on such a bright morning. "I can catch you up."_

_His eyes were softer than she was half sure she had ever seen them._

_"If we're late, we can be late together."_

_She smiled, waking up quite completely when she threaded her arm through his once more, swiftly letting it drop to be able to hold onto his hand tight._

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing." Her throat was burning as she came close to cracking; her eyes darted from his gaze.  _Please, don't look at me._ "I just feel like walking on my own, that's all."

Her breath caught sharp as she stumbled slightly on her heel, picking up pace as she got out of the door, slipped away without further glance.

She tried hard not to hear him calling her name, ran quicker so she could leave it behind. She looked straight ahead, not paying attention to the twigs strewn about, littering her path. She didn't pay attention to much, except when there was a shriek high above in the trees. Her heart nearly burst out of her chest as she stood still for a moment, the sound echoing in her head, louder and louder.

The night was pitch black, and yet it wasn't enough to make her disappear. The wind around her stoked, making her clutch her hand over her hat. She was too numb to feel its cold, kept back from the winter believed to be over.

She wished she were numb enough. Wished it like nothing else, knowing the night could not be undone.

The sun had moved from the sky long ago, and the stars had been stolen too, leaving the sky a void. She didn't notice their absence. Her hands fumbled with the lock when it wouldn't budge, leaving her to batter against the door with the strength she didn't have. Was she forsaken so soon?

She clambered inside when it gave way, arranging her coat and hat on their hooks with a concentration that alarmed her. The cottage was dark, and she left it that way, knowing the steps inside to the front room without the need for light.

It would only burn away in a second if she tried.

Sitting on the edge of the settee, she stared into the darkness.

Nothing.

The clock ticked, and she let out a howl as she cried to the silence.

In the next moment, the sound she made was stolen too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have only seen 4.3 once when it aired, and even then a lot of it is hazy. Thanks to Kristen_APA and herewestand on Tumblr for the transcription.


	29. Bound by Duty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for implication of content in 4.3. This is 4.4's drabble, to be clear.

She walked with purpose, though her steps were still too painfully slow and her hands trembled where they clamped by her sides. The permission she had sought had been granted, and the decision had been made.

(It had been made from the moment she had been scorched, her existence turning to black and ashes)

She came to a stop in the empty corridor, turning to glance behind her. Her wits were permanently alive, wearing the patience of every nerve, making her unfit for purpose.

(She half expected to see the dark trail streaming out from her heels, marking every movement she made, telling exactly of what she was)

Still, she needed to plough on. That's what she had always been taught to do. She remembered the way her mother used to berate the ill, those who complained about even the slightest ailment.  _You'll get no sympathy from me for being idle. God put us on this earth to toil, and there's no cure like working hard and feeling the better for it._

( _But I'll never be cured. I will always be sick and soiled, infected to the core. She would think I had brought this on. Perhaps I did. Perhaps Mrs Hughes was wrong)_

The sourness rose up again to her throat; she had a terrible inclination that she would be sick and cause a scene. The immediate sensation ebbed away but the shard that was lodged there remained. A fraction of her heart wasn't listening, fought against everything else she had made up her mind about.

( _Perhaps you can say something. You needn't tell the truth, but you don't need to lie, either)_

She closed her eyes for a moment, willed herself to remember John and what his hands felt like against her.

(She couldn't; she just couldn't)

Her head took over, rightly.

( _You must accept it. You can't infect him too, not when he's so good and undeserving of this)_

Her heels clicked loud against the floor, pushing her reluctantly towards the hall. He was sitting with his back to her, a couple of housemaids and Thomas sat opposite, chairs apart. Her face was already set and her voice came out monotone. It still seemed strange to do away with the feeling, despite everything.

"Mr Bates."

She wished that he wouldn't smile at her, not even that barely-visible crescent. He had known she wouldn't come to sit in one of the row of empty chairs next to him and ambled out into the corridor where she stood, stiff as a board.

"You look tired," he said, far too soft.

(He didn't reach for her, thank god)

"Once they're changed, we can go back - "

"I'm going to move out of the cottage. From tonight."

The speed at which she had blurted it lessened the force at which his face fell, to a certain degree.

"I have her Ladyship to see to as well now, and if I'm to perform my duties properly I think it's the best all round. Don't you agree?"

(She had a duty to him, to disappear slowly from his life, to shrink away to nothing until nobody noticed her, a ghost within the walls haunting the house)

"I don't know," he murmured, chancing a look into her eyes. "If you think so –

"Yes," she answered curtly. "I do. For now."

Silence strung out as he looked just past her shoulder, gaze fixed in place.

(She begged him to look elsewhere, else she might scream it out)

He shifted on his feet, taking notice of his cane against the floor. "I can bring some of your things, so you're sorted."

(She decided not to take notice of the waver in his voice)

"Tomorrow, maybe. I have a nightgown left over in my old room. I don't want to trouble you."

"You're never any trouble – "

(And that was it. The first piece removed)

"I have some things to do. I doubt I'll see you again after changing, so goodnight."

His reply was delayed, and she took a last look at his face before moving past him swiftly, climbing the steps to the quarters.

A voice from long ago lingered, the person she had left behind.

( _The only ruin I recognise is to be without you)_

Ruined twice, the pain seeping into her bloodstream.

Already she prayed against her sins that there would be no more.


	30. Shelter

Her feelings overwhelmed her, a sea consuming her as the tears streamed down her face, trickling to fall inside the collar of her dress. The moment at which he stopped her from scrubbing the shoe held in her grasp, stilling the chaos of her mind temporarily with his hand upon hers, she knew. Knew, but didn't want to believe.

He didn't even have to say the two words aloud, but when he did the fear caused within her built to its crescendo. Waves surging to pull her under when she craned her head to look at him, needing to be assured even if it was too late, even if she was set adrift without hope of returning.

He was her harbour, the liferaft sent for her to cling onto. His eyes looking into hers – half desperate with agony, beating it back with assurance and love, love that she was beyond relieved that she was still able to recognise. His hands upon her face, holding her so delicately.

She remembered his fingertips light upon her skin, the whirls and loops that she couldn't possibly sense or recognise but that she knew were there and told her that it was really him, it was really John and he was here, his voice trembling but it was his voice, telling her that he had never been prouder of her.

That he had never loved her more.

She loved him so, reminded all at once of the joy and the pain as she looked into his eyes, brought her shaking hand to rest upon his.

She had missed him, so much that the broken remnants of her heart still had beat on, reminding her that she hadn't been hollowed completely.

It was only later that she felt proud of herself for being the one to open up his embrace, for leaning forward into him unafraid. At that moment she couldn't see past the bulk of him, the solidity of his chest as she moulded to him and let go as she clung on. His hand soothed at the back of her head, keeping her anchored to him, and she was like a child in his arms as she wept and wailed, telling him the truth of her heart, letting him be the guardian of it once more.

She let him hold her, and she didn't feel frightened or wrought through with hurt. However her mind wasn't blank, purged of unwanted thoughts by the salvation of his touch.

In this sacred moment that would fade, she felt the love he spoke of – that he vowed.

She felt safe. She had been so terrified that she would never know safety again, aside from shutting herself off from life, and the sweet relief of its return flooded her.

Exhaustion took a hold. She sniffed as she drew her head away, though her arms remained around him. They were both surprised by her persistence.

"Your jacket," slowly she stroked her fingers at his lapel, damp to the touch with her tears. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head resolutely. She looked up into his eyes again, saw his irises ringed with red.

It seemed the least of their worries to mention, but she couldn't say any more of anything else. Once again she felt weightless, wrung out.

He wore a small smile as she stepped out of his embrace, a distance returned between them.

"It's late. I can finish these."

She shook her head in reply, finding herself reaching for him, though she didn't quite make it.

"You should go home, else you won't be away." A smile wouldn't hold on her lips.

"Let me see you up, at least?"

The hesitancy in his tone made her feel better for holding onto her own.

He went out of the room in front of her, letting her close the door, and then they walked side-by-side towards the stairs. Anna felt a warmth kindling somewhere within her, her shoulders aching even now the tension she had carried with her whenever she saw him had gone away.

She stepped above him, standing on the third stair while he remained at the foot. She could picture him there again in a few hours time, waiting to greet her in their new and foreign routine. He told her that he'd be there in the morning, and she felt calm at the promise.

Her breath held in her throat, stopping before she asked, her worry washing away in his eyes.

"And I can come home, tomorrow?"

He seemed too overcome to smile, though he did so seconds later. "My darling. Of course you can."

Her lips curled despite themselves and the delayed smile arrived; truly, for the first time since.


	31. Shadowed

It took her a few seconds to wake properly, and even then her limbs felt paralysed. She didn't think she had called out – her voice had stopped short in her throat for that, and even now she was still having trouble, trying to gasp for air, blinking in the darkness of the room.

After some moments of confusion she made out the silhouette of the cabinet, and a bit further away, the chair and small dressing table nestled in the corner.

"Anna. Anna, love."

John's whispers were steady and gentle, his even tone helping to calm the pounding rhythm of her heart.

She turned slowly onto her side – it seemed to take her minutes to do so, everything she did so much slower now. He lifted his head gradually from the pillow, his movements careful so as not to startle her more as he shifted a bit further along to the edge of the bed.

She was glad he was here, but at the same time she was thankful for the space he had mindfully placed between them in their bed. She wasn't sure what scared her more – the nightmares that had returned to her in the last few nights, in the hours that she was actually able to get some sleep, or the thought that she might lash out and hurt him, fighting against the touch she might mistake if she wasn't conscious.

"You know where you are, don't you?" He was sitting up, straight and sturdy while she was curled tight against the sheets. "You're in the cottage. You're safe. It was only a dream. You're here and you're safe."

She nodded her head against the pillow, regaining the feeling in her legs as she loosened them. She did feel better now, now that this instance had gone away, her gaze staying on John's face as he uttered soft hushes to her. Her heart sped up again when he got out of the bed, and she began to panic, fearful that he was going to go back to the Abbey, leave her alone.

"Shhh, my love, it's alright," he uttered, his voice barely rising in volume. "I'm just going to go downstairs to get you a glass of water. I won't be a moment."

She kept an ear out for the sound of his steps, breathing in time with the spaces between each, and she was sitting by the time he returned.

Next to the glass, he placed down the candle in its holder, sheltering the flame before it sparked, throwing soft light onto the walls and illuminating his face in an amber glow.

It was getting better. She hadn't lied to Lady Mary about that, and hadn't lied to herself either. Nothing was ever solved overnight, and she didn't fool herself that there wouldn't be many more nights when she wouldn't wake up in time to run away, nor days when she felt worn down and useless and not good enough for him, no matter the many ways in which he told her with or without words that she was far more than just enough. It was taking her time to believe it.

In moments, she was happy. When she woke up to hear him humming a tune to himself in the bathroom. When they walked home together, the rest of the world gone away, talking of how their days had gone.

When she forgot about that night, if only for a few seconds.

The candle's flame flickered, and her heart stuttered when she noticed the shift in his expression. Very small, but it was there. In the moments when he thought she couldn't see him, and sometimes even when he was close, like now.

She wondered if he had found out somehow, had only ever believed her version of events for her own sake. That might have been better, rather than bear witness to his guilt and persecution. To see her as a victim.

The nights may have grown darker, bearing down upon them, but her spirit was a flame like the one burning in her very vision. Small and flickering, seeming like it would waver and extinguish.

Everything was shadowed, even the moments they didn't properly recognise.

His weight settled back into bed, not quite beside her, and she was glad when he didn't ask if she wanted the candle putting out, allowing it to burn itself down instead.


	32. Whispers

There was silence, and an awkwardness remaining, as she arranged the rest of the things in the room, faintly trembling fingers carefully lining up the jewellery upon the dresser. She was glad that Lady Mary was aware now; there wasn't room within her to hold on to any more deceptions, and she was just so thankful that it meant that John could stay at home that she hadn't really thought past the immediate. She certainly hadn't expected Lady Mary to ask questions, which she supposed now was foolish of her. Of course there had been no ill intention meant, and in a strange way she was comforted by the fact that her mistress's clear and forthright thinking had not shifted.

Still, she had unknowingly brought that night back into Anna's mind, and whenever the shadows descended they took quite some time to lift.

Lady Mary turned around at the same time as Anna had decided she had smoothed the strand of beads into the straightest line possible. She smiled gently, and changed the subject, talking with sudden enthusiasm about some friend of a friend who was moving nearer to Yorkshire from Oxford. Anna listened diligently, speaking where needed, talking inwardly to herself in order to keep the nausea she felt at bay. Simply so that she could get through.

"Will that be all, m'lady?" she asked eventually, her hands drifting back to the silky fabric overlaid at the foot of the bed.

"For now, yes."

Lady Mary smiled more encouragingly, and Anna did her best to follow suit before she left.

"Anna."

She halted her step, turned back slowly.

"I am sorry if I upset you. I didn't mean – "

"I know you didn't, m'lady," her voice remained calm, quite at odds with the storm within her. "You mustn't feel like you have to walk on eggshells around me, not when you're getting your strength back."

The look in her mistress's eyes was mournful, the colour quite gone from the apples of her cheeks.

"It might take a while, but I hope eventually that you can talk about it." She hesitated for a moment while Anna stared blankly. "If not to me, then to someone. I should hate to think about you going through alone..."

"We'll see, m'lady," she stuttered out, meeting Lady Mary's gaze for a few seconds.

She'd do her best not to lie any more.

The hallway outside was quiet, yet she still muffled her sobbing, letting out the tears that she had kept held back for minutes, seeming so much longer. She wondered for a moment how much more crying she could do, hiding in corners and hoping nobody would pass by to catch her.

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, gathering herself; released from it until the next time. As she made her way along and back down towards the servants' hall, she thought more about how ridiculous her vow was.

There was someone to talk to, if she ever felt the need. Mrs Hughes's door was open as she passed it, and though she didn't step inside this evening she knew she wouldn't be turned away. There were strangers on the street, somewhere; women who kept themselves small and sheltered as they walked with the same steps that she did, hardly glancing upwards to show the tears in their own eyes. New friends as yet unknown, older ones who wouldn't judge – or so she hoped.

Her best friend sat at the table in the room she entered, and her heart faltered, knowing she could never say it all. The one person she wanted to be able to tell, as much as she longed to keep it from him, to keep him safe and not let his mind be tortured the way her own was. And yet, he would welcome it.

He smiled towards her, pulling out the chair at his side without rising from his own seat. At the far end of the table, Miss Baxter was preoccupied with her button box, alone. Anna gave a friendly nod, which was returned a touch cautiously. Mr Molesley had been close by her throughout the day, saying things that Anna could only catch the odd word of. She felt quite wrong for eavesdropping, but she couldn't shake the feeling that he was asking about John, and the reason why he was still here.

She curdled as she imagined those that hadn't been told knowing, taking the words from her before she could speak.

A look from John set her right, and she took a short glance at the clock.

"Aren't you thinking about what's going on in America?" she said, quietly.

He shook his head as his eyes grew warmer, his palm shifting very gradually over the table.

"Not when my thoughts are better served much nearer."

He waited, for long and patient moments that ticked by, and they both smiled when Anna gingerly pushed her hand forward, permitting his fingers to grasp her own gently.


	33. Foundations

Hour by hour. And when that seemed too much, it was minute by minute. On a harder day she wouldn't mourn the setting of the sun, thankful for the darkness to fill the skies. On days that were better she learnt to savour each moment before it slipped into the next unnoticed, welcoming the dusk as she stood out in their little garden, the earth beneath the soles of her feet as a constant reminder:  _you are more whole than you feel, and you are rooted._

These were the foundations by which she lived her life, by which she learnt to live again, feeling more at home in the skin and bones that were still hers. Her heart beating, her lungs filling with the air that was fresh outside, fresh and sweet with the fading of another late summer day.

All of the things that were hers, and could never be taken from her, nor altered beyond recognition.

They were all allowed a few hours off on the morning after the bazaar, a thank you from Lady Grantham for everyone's efforts chipping in to help. John should have been up at the house, sorting and unpacking the last of Lord Grantham's things, but he wouldn't be needed to assist with the labour of disassembling everything outside so there was plenty of time to get back on track. Besides, he wouldn't leave her. It took him all the time to be persuaded that she would be alright for a breath of air on her own, just a few steps from where he was. She knew he was watching her from the kitchen window, and she glanced back with a small smile written upon her face.

_There were lots of things to do in York. Only the other week they had discussed needing a new handle for one of the doors upstairs. Perhaps he had gone to get one. Perhaps he needed to clear his mind, much like she was doing now and in each of the other small moments before and after. He had a lot on his mind, and he would need to go that extra distance to be able to start to soothe it._

She went straight to bed the night after Lord Gillingham next came to visit. The comments went around that it was terribly strange that he should be alone, again, and Mr Carson bid Thomas to look after him. Thomas, of all people. Nobody could stop talking about it after that; nobody, except Thomas, who reclined in his chair once his work as informant had been done. Anna felt Mrs Hughes' gaze upon her as the chatter went around, and she did her best to appear shocked and even a touch sorrowful at the news.

In truth, she wasn't sure of what she felt. Relief, an ability to breathe easier. She would be able to walk in London without having to constantly look over her shoulder and rushing everything she did at double speed, that permanent feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach dissipating slightly.

In a sense, she was angry. A few seconds, from the sound of it, and his life was over. His deeds erased. She doubted she ever would have gone to the police – she still couldn't bring herself to say anything aloud at what had happened – but the fact that the chance for justice had been robbed from her made her bitter.

_It might get easier to cope with, but it would never be over._

She went to sleep quickly, before John could ask anything, and the night afterwards she went back out to breathe in the air; to resume and to begin again.

The autumn came in sooner than expected, in some ways feeling more like winter. She sat by the fire, eyes and feet both rather weary, concentrating hard over the stitches she made. Even in the low light, she wasn't ready to give up. John called out her name, soft at first and steadily raising the pitch of his voice. He always wanted her to know that it was him there, to make as certain as it was able to be.

She pulled her shawl around her shoulders, smiling her thanks as he placed the cup of tea down on the little table next to her.

"How's it coming along?" he nodded to the cross-stitch cradled in her hands and lap – her replacement now that the air had become too cold.

"Getting there," she replied, smiling as she realised that she didn't have far to go until it was complete.

The sight of him leaning at the fireplace made her almost as warm as the flames that nestled within.

The foundations that they had built may have been rocked, but they still stood, sturdy against the starkest winds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more post-4.8 than during, as that episode didn't give a lot to work with...


	34. A Change is As Good

It was nice for there to be a bigger party of them in London, so much so that Grantham House had been opened up especially; it had been a good while since Anna had been there. She supposed it had a lot to do with Mrs Levinson and her Ladyship's brother coming over from America. The latter was a mystery to everyone, only ever having been talked about in fairly scandalous terms. As it was, curiosity remained; they only caught passing glances of him – he liked to keep himself to himself, and there was nothing wrong in that. Anna admired the quality. The young man who accompanied him as his valet – he couldn't have been older than twenty-two, by the looks of things – was enthusiastic and chatty, embodying more of the American manners that everybody had expected. He was a lovely lad, and talked her ear off at the table one evening about life back home. She felt rather bad for having to excuse herself part way through the conversation, but if she would have stayed any longer Lady Mary would have been left waiting all night.

Imaginings of bright lights and grander shores stayed with her for that night at least, and she cast her mind back. She had been ready and willing to do it once, in circumstances that were worse all things considered. She wasn't sure what John would make of it if she dared to mention, but she could only think that a start somewhere new, so many miles away, would only be a good thing.

It was a flight of fancy, forgotten about as soon as they had settled in properly. She thought that she liked her home comforts too much. Plus, she didn't expect that the tea would taste as half as good, and that was something she didn't reckon she could do without.

She carried her cup with her, entering the hall after leaving Mrs Hughes in the hallway. It still took a bit of getting used to, the new surroundings, but she couldn't have felt out of place for long while he was there.

They smiled at one another, and for a few moments she felt more at home than she had done back in Yorkshire for quite some time.

"Lady Mary says that they're all quite packed in upstairs," she confided to him, eyes bright as he regarded her. "I suppose it makes quite a change."

"One that they're not used to," he chuckled, making her smile again. "And yet she still managed to get a room to herself. I wonder how that was possible."

She gave a little roll of her eyes which didn't go unnoticed. "Well, that's Lady Mary for you. If there's a way..."

If the family found it a tight fit, it was nothing compared to the staff, but at least they didn't find it surprising. There weren't enough rooms to go round, and sharing was delegated in the old-fashioned way, Anna being placed with Miss Baxter and John with Mr Molesley. She had felt rather disappointed at first, but then it just made the time they spent together all the nicer.

Their time together had been easier of late. There was less hesitation on both of their parts, smiles that were more frequent and meaningful. She had packed one of her newer dresses with the sheer sleeves, expecting London to be more humid than the north, and she was rather pleased when his eyes lit, admiring her all over again – though he had never lost the look of love she knew, somehow. The other evening he had asked her if she minded him saying that she looked beautiful. His simple question had brought tears to her eyes, but on this occasion they were welcomed.

He turned over the page of the newspaper they were both glancing at. "We'll have the afternoon in a couple of days. Perhaps there's something in here that we could do."

Anna tilted her head; there was nothing in particular that took her attention. "Or you could decide that shopping is a good idea after all, while we're here."

His look spoke louder than his words, and she didn't stifle her small giggle. Some things would take a little more persuading, but there was time.

"I thought about stopping in on Mr Brook, see how the house is."

"I wouldn't stay long," she noted. "He might think you're checking up on them, and refuse to pay the rent for a month."

He laughed again, the soft rumble a delight to her ears. "I think we've got a fair bit to be going on with as it is, one month wouldn't do much harm. So much so, that we could afford to take a little break."

She tutted at the frivolous suggestion, even if she thought it might be nice. Without another thought, she moved her hand across to where his rested by the open page and beheld the smile grow on his face as she linked her fingers fast in the spaces between his, of her own volition.

"A rest would be lovely," she commented, rubbing her thumb over the arch of his hand, "but I think a change is just as good."

Things were changing, a little bit more every day.


End file.
